


Draped in Gold

by GoldenRarity



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Cannibalism, Captivity, Conflict, Daggers, Flashbacks, Gen, Illusions, Magic, Mentions of Hela - Freeform, Mentions of Odin, Monsters, Sakaar (Marvel), Scheming, Thor was kind of a dick, Trashmaster, Weapons, mentions of Sif - Freeform, prisoners with jobs amirite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-06-12 16:16:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15343650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenRarity/pseuds/GoldenRarity
Summary: When Loki is knocked out of the Bifrost and abandoned on a mysterious realm it doesn't take him long to acknowledge the danger waiting for him at every turn, and even worse, with no allies or status to defend him. A story of conflict, discovery, and most of all redemption.[My own personal twist on the events in Thor: Ragnarok]





	1. Crash Landing

_He was falling again._

The endless expanse of space knocked any breath he'd managed to reserve after yelling for Heimdal's help, his green eyes widened as the sight of utter blackness and stars devoured him completely. Only the flashing multi-coloured path of the Bifrost provided any sort of light amidst the knowhere Loki had been sent to. It was all terrifyingly familiar; numb limbs floated freely seemingly determined to drift away from the safety of the Bifrost, now travelling towards nothingness.

Despite his Jotun heritage, Loki's form still felt the bitter bite of the freezing temperature space had to offer. It nipped and clawed mercilessly at every inch of exposed flesh the man had, painting his armour in pale blue frost that spread gradually as if fate was in no rush to consume his existance as quickly as he'd of liked it to.

He remembered it all too well...

Except this time when the colourful picture of the Bifrost left his vision, a faint glow resided just behind him. And it was... Pulling Loki towards it? Once the God's body finally, and excruciatingly slowly, turned around- his ivy gaze fell upon what appeared to be a round portal with the image of an unknown planet. Loki stared at the scene ahead dragging his immobile body nearer and nearer until the man's oxygen supply was slowly reviving as the mysterious picture of the realm grew closer.

Suddenly the force attracting Loki to the portal increased, drawing him to it at a faster rate until he passed the circular edge of the portal and was plummeting towards the ground from a considerable height. Adrenaline coursed through Loki's entire being as he fell swiftly downwards towards solid ground; accompanied by innumerable objects that upon first sight appeared as though they could do unpleasant harm to a God descending at full speed. Although now there was plenty of air to be filling the God's lungs with, breathing became a challenge as Loki cried out in surprise and confusion, dropping face-down towards what looked like a heap of garbage...

It was clear that it wouldn't be an easy landing, so Loki extended both arms in front of him and closed his eyes just as he was feet above the small mountain of trash. Evidently Loki's chest took the brunt of the damage once plunging into the mound of discarded items. Various objects collided with the God of mischief's front, causing a unpleasant amount of pain regardless of the protective layer of his Asgardian armour. Luckily Loki's arms managed to successfully guard his face against any sort of impact giving the Prince an opportunity to confirm that the current situation definitely wasn't as bad as it could be in terms of physical well-being.

Bursts of agony erupted throughout the God's arms as he began to push himself upwards with the hopes of no longer being half-buried in trash. Eventually, after a series of pained grunts from Loki, he'd gradually managed to manoeuvre into a crouched position further encouraging the soreness throughout his body. The God lifted his head to get a proper look at the surrounding realm he'd been sent to by Hela- _Hela, on her way to Asgard_. Hopefully his oaf of a sibling had managed to prevent the mad Goddess from so much as reaching the end of the Bifrost, or at least been able to get there himself first to defend their home from Hela's seemingly wicked intentions.

She hadn't exactly given him a good impression by ordering them to kneel within seconds of first meeting. Incredibly ironic, considering his misdeeds on Midgard; perhaps karma always did find a way to truly come back around. Furthermore even the aura Hela held radiated a raw form of evil which was not to be trifled with. If Odin, who seemed hellbent on creating and maintaining peace between all living things, insisted on banishing his daughter for thousands of years as opposed to other means of stopping her then there must be much more venom to her character than a meagre 'kneel'.

For the present moment Loki decided to push the rest of what happened in Norway to contemplate at a later time: the effects of Odin's last words to the two brothers managed to undeniably tug at something in Loki's heart. Not to mention the level of grave danger Asgard was in if Hela did make it to the kingdom that Loki didn't even dare to fully consider.

The God of Mischief directed his attention upwards to spot a sizeable amount of ships above him; all varying in measurement and shape. Upon seeing the airborne vessels Loki immediately questioned why such fairly advanced technology would be used to travel to or remain at, what could only be described, as a significantly large heap of waste and debris. It was common knowledge (to him at least) that some realms remained completely devoid of any sort of technological existence depending on how pleasant or habitable it appeared.

What lead the God to further confusion was the fact that they didn't seem to be heading to a specific destination. Instead, they leisurely drifted over the surface of the realm. Their smooth cruise in the air made Loki suspect that the air crafts were waiting for something - which didn't bode well at all. They reminded him somewhat of sharks: Swimming slowly and gradually through the ocean, remaining at a mere snails pace before locking onto potential prey and striking with such rapid speed that chances of escape were distastefully slim.

A sudden urge to remove himself from plain sight pushed Loki into motion. Now less focused on assessing his surroundings the prince stood up to the objection of his aching body and began navigating down the jagged garbage dump that presented the royal foreigner as easy pickings for the predators above. Multiple times the mans foot would lose the surface beneath it as whatever trash he'd been relying on to support him would fall apart under his weight and leave him groundless, but he'd always make a swift recovery due to keen footwork and eventually reached the actual flooring of the odd planet, a musky dirt.

At first he settled for a quick walk following the narrow path carved out for travel amidst the wasteland; although Loki couldn't conjure any ideas as to why anyone would want to spend time down here amongst all of this useless garbage. Only a few seconds of contained simmering panic lasted before the man started jogging, desperately searching for any sign of civilisation or, if lucky enough, his own transport.

He spotted nothing straight away which was moderately expected given the overall appearance of the weird realm. However in the distance something caught his eye: something many miles away that appeared to be far taller that even the largest discarded piles of trash around him. A tower? _Finally something that resembles an actual building_ , Loki thought succumbing to a wave of relief now knowing he hadn't been deserted on a complete junkyard. Upon further inspection Loki could vaguely make out the shapes of other smaller buildings surrounding the massive tower furthering his impression that not all hope was lost.

That was the new destination. If there was anywhere the God would be best suited it was definitely around other people - or creatures at least. Society meant resources, safety (if one knew how to act accordingly) and an opportunity to climb higher in the chain of command. Of course it was immensely frustrating to be back at square one all over again after his years spend as King of Asgard - after finally reaching the position he was born for at the end of everything only to have it stripped away by a prying Thor.

Loki's internal scheming for what he could accomplish once he reached the city was interrupted by the alarming commotion of a ship approaching. It sounded much rougher and more worn compared to Asgard's high tech and well kept golden vessels, however that didn't necessarily mean the people inside were of similar welfare as the dark elves had cruelly reminded them.

The ship had landed just behind him fairly quickly indicating that it was more capable than the sound of it would suggest. Outrunning it was a clear impossibility without a doubt. He stopped all movement and simply remained still for a few seconds, then turning around to gaze upon the dark grey ship as though he wasn't troubled by it's presence.

It didn't take long at all for a group of awfully dressed ravagers to pour out of the ships door, all moving into a vague formation around him gripping their weapons. They wielded a variation of weapons such as firearms, machetes, hammers, even a few spears. Guns did seem to be the most popular choice throughout the group however despite the diversity of menacing objects. Loki was fully surrounded more rapidly than he was comfortable with now centred in a circle of beings who didn't look as though they were searching for new friends. On the outside, as least, their body shape suggested they were somewhat very similar to a normal person. _That_ he could work with.

"Are y' eh any kind of 'eh fighter?" One said gruffly, tone carrying a thick accent with it. That one was presumably the 'leader', the God thought.

Defiant to appear weak in any regard Loki fixated his posture and stood as tall as he possibly could in front of the ravager. Due to the mask covering his face the prince was unable to read the man's expression, but it wouldn't aid much in the situation as Loki was quite aware of a ravagers mentality without needing to scrutinise very much. Quite basic creatures really.

Loki knew his response had to be calculated lest he get himself into a much worse position; killed, kidnapped, or perhaps even tortured and toyed with until the savages got bored and eventually ended him with no regard. These were folk of a significantly brutish and self-serving reputation, their intent only fuelled by pure greed and chaos. No ravager held loyalty to anything that didn't serve their hunger for wealth leaving them constantly questing for new opportunities to cause mayhem.

They wouldn't leave him be whichever way this interaction went, for as primitive as ravagers were they always found ways to make use or profit out of anything or anyone they managed to come across. To Loki's demise this time it just so happened to be him.

It was a simple question the man had asked, and the Jotun was fully aware that he read far too much into things sometimes - however he gave himself a chance to ponder the inquiry standing in silent consideration before speaking up.

"I'm not defenceless, if that's what you're insinuating." Loki replied emphasising the comment by outstretching both arms and conjuring two sharp, silver daggers which let out a shrill piercing sound before they were fully summoned. An act that more often than not caught his foes off guard at the sudden sight of danger: lethal blades ready to slice and pierce skin with little to no difficulty as he'd done many times before.

Daggers had always been his weapon of choice when growing up. Loki had never been a fan of swords, or archery, or battleaxes and the like as most other warriors in Asgard were. A dagger was light, precise, and easy to hide. It would come to no surprise to anyone that knew him that daggers were the God of Mischief's go-to weapon.

Only half against Loki's expectations however the apparent group leader began laughing heartily, the others following shortly after as if they'd been waiting for the cue. Ravagers were well accustomed to conflict to it came as little surprise to Loki when they didn't cower at his threats. Their tendency to take on almost anything with minimal hesitation was what made them a particularly high-risk encounter - if the reward was high enough, there was nothing that could stand in the way of a hefty group of ravagers with a good ship and exceptional weaponry.

The outcasts continued cackling as though Loki's display was the most hilarious thing they'd seen in ages, before the leader raised one hand and casted silence among his men.

"Put 'im out."

Loki had no time to react when the noise of something being fired registered in his ears before everything turned to black once again as unconsciousness swallowed him whole, left at the mercy of whatever his captors had planned for him.


	2. Certain Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a 'haven for lost things' Sakaar houses some weird and terrifying beings for sure.
> 
> [Because of the chapter's length I may have missed a few mistakes in my proof reading so please excuse them and I'll hopefully spot them and get them fixed at a later date!]

When Loki finally began to wake, he attempted to try and survey his current whereabouts only resulting in blinking with confusion trying to dismiss the blurriness in his vision. On top of that the man's body felt half asleep refusing to cooperate as first, before slowly moving into stiff motion and sitting up. Whatever those ravagers had used to knock him out were something of a fair potency; it took more than a simple tranquilliser to take out a God so effectively.

Being sat on the ground, as soon as Loki made a move to stand up he realised how truly dire the situation was: the God was fully bound, arms secured behind his back both forearms pressed against each other and wrapped tightly. As well as that, shackles had been attached to both ankles baring a ruddy silver chain that looked as though it would prevent the wearer from taking anymore than a mediocre step.

To Loki's pure hatred however, the most notable feature of his bondage was the metal muzzle securing his face.

It took a few minutes before the God of mischief's senses were fully recovered and his situation was visible - several ravagers stood near him, including the leader, waiting behind a series of other beings in what appeared to be a line. Whatever they were collectively waiting for at the front Loki wasn't very far behind.

He didn't seem to be the only one here against his will either. Each small group in line appeared to have a bound captive or two, and they were most certainly not resembling an ordinary person: as far as Loki could tell he was the only hostage who outwardly appeared to look non-alien like (Even though it was a mere illusion, but they didn't need to know that).

When craning his neck to look behind him Loki was confronted with a pair of black shabby boots. Green eyes trailed upwards to finally look upon a race Loki was unfamiliar with; it had dark grey skin, lines carved into their face with striking yellow eyes that seemed to glow accompanied by thin black slits for pupils and stood a little over 7 feet tall.

Loki frowned in annoyance at the fact that this creature didn't possess a muzzle or any form of bondage for that matter, possibly someone who wasn't here unwillingly. He wiped the expression from his face when the being looked down at the staring God and gave a terrifying grin.

Two rows of sharp, feral-like teeth were present, a crimson colour evident between each one broadcasting some poor unknown's blood inside the jaws of a bulking beast-man. As if to properly exhibit it's thirst for ill will the huge brute released a low, guttural growl that sounded far too animalistic for the comfort of a chained up Loki.

Given the circumstances the God wasn't overly enthusiastic to get in a quarrel with a huge alien-monster so he sharply redirected his attention ahead, committing to completely ignoring it's existence.

At the front of the queue Loki spotted hostages being taken away from their captors by other armoured beings, escorting the bound folk to an exit on the left. It was anybody's guess what was happening to those were were lead there and why but the Jotun was quite content to never find out. Given how he'd been drugged into a vegetable state and brought to wherever they currently were, it was a strong assumption that the transaction taking place ahead wasn't any sort welcoming party.

Loki's first priority was getting a grip on his Seidr before formulating a quick escape plan to avoid being traded off to Odin knows where and to who. Something about being chained up and heavily sedated didn't scream 'friendly greeting' to him, funnily enough.

Nevertheless a completely separate topic was prominent in the situation; his location. Two immediate best guesses were either he'd been taken somewhere completely away from the realm he was previously standing on, or by some cursed luck Loki had been taken to the city that had been in his eyesight maybe mere hours ago, or even minutes.

If in fact he was inside of or near the tower that had been the earlier travel destination, then perhaps it was best that he find somewhere else to harbour if another suitable location so existed on the realm. After all residing in a building that made a habit of trading off people wasn't a place that the prince was content staying at.

To try and ease the God of mischief's nerves he shifted his hands behind him, attempting to get a hold of his Seidr waiting for the tingling sensation of the deep well of magic he possessed to spawn, having it at his full disposal. Nobody seemed to be paying him any mind so casting a spell without notice would be a fairly simple and straight forward task.

Loki continued to attempt to call forth his sorcery looking around the room filled with unfamiliar races, spying for an opportunity to cast something that would assist in giving him a chance at escape. He waited.

Something was wrong.

The internal feeling of his magic sprouting within and becoming attentive never came. No noticeable sensation of the sorcery activating throughout his entire form, coming alive as it was called forth to meet his demands. Loki felt nothing.

As if it were a catalyst, the missing signs of Loki's magic coming to the forefront of his senses sent the God into a full blown panic. It began as confused shifting, turning this way and that not entirely sure what the problem was - until it evolved into frenzied kicking and thrashing.

The only time Loki had ever had his magic blocked from use was when he made an appearance before Odin after the incident on Midgard. But even then, he'd known it wasn't going to be a permanent arrangement as when he arrived to his cell the enchanted cuffs were released and Loki could freely cast whichever spells he liked.

But in that moment he had absolutely no idea what was suppressing his abilities; the drugs? A similarly enchanted or enhanced accessory? Was it temporary? All questions that Loki didn't have a certain answer too.

Quickly the ravagers sprung into action at the notice of their suddenly hysterical prisoner, swiftly getting a rough hold of flailing limbs in an attempt to still the alarmed captive at their feet.

"Sit blood'eh still will y'eh?" The leader grunted moving from having a firm hold on Loki's shoulders to wrapping an arm around his neck squeezing in such a way that partially cut off his air supply, only serving to make the prince freak out even further.

As the God made a scene some creatures turned to view the source of the commotion as Loki tossed and twisted in futile panic. His efforts were only tolerated for a few seconds before a sharp burst of electricity completely stunned Loki accompanied by a sharp zapping noise that reverberated from the walls of the room.

Whilst being paralysed by the height of the current he'd been unexpectedly attacked with the ravagers dragged him to his feet, grappling his arms in a bruising grip as he gradually regained the ability to stand.

Loki's nose flared with rage, his heart hammered from a concoction of fear, anxiety and helplessness. Even still he remained stubborn trying to pull away from the grubby hands of the brutes around him but their hold never faltered. Seconds later the group ahead of them moved to the side and Loki was confronted with a woman - She being the only one who didn't look alien-like, sporting dark grey and yellow armour along with white lines carefully plotted on her forehead that meant nothing to the Jotun.

He was next in line for whatever transaction was taking place. She was accompanied by a band of strangely dressed guards: their armour thick and of an odd, unfamiliar design with no hint at what creatures were beneath it. They stood behind her, unwavering, waiting for an order to finally put them into motion.

The mysterious woman only smiled at Loki's scathing glare, now face to face with the trader who made a point of eyeing his form thoroughly as if examining him. Loki's anger only grew; he wasn't just some _animal_ that could be inspected and then judged accordingly. 

"This one's a feisty bugger, an' he's a magic-y one. A wizard or s' umit prob' ly." The leader explained next to him and the prince had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Of course this dull creature clearly of limited intellect would jump straight to the conclusion that he was a wizard simply for possessing even the most minute of sorcerer capabilities.

A few seconds of the woman inspecting him passed before there was a response, "Decent. 50 thousand units transferred, take it to C13."

Four armoured beings stepped towards Loki past the female trader, the ravagers released him only for his momentary freedom to be swiftly terminated by new sets of strong hands gabbing an unkind hold of him. It was evident that struggle was simply a waste of energy at this point as he was outnumbered for someone bound securely in chains and without their most useful abilities.

With compliance born from complete lack of choice Loki padded across the room with the four beings, heading down a corridor leading likely to Loki's demise. It didn't look particularly threatening; a combination of white and red as though the designer couldn't settle on a single colour. Apparently C13 didn't sit too close to where they'd began walking from as several minutes pass of silent travel - silent except for the rattling of the chains preventing Loki from a likely much needed escape.

Eventually the guards tugged him to the right side of the hallway and stopped in front of a metallic door. One of them took initiative in entering a code on a nontechnical pad; the symbols on the buttons present on it's screen were nothing Loki had ever seen before, it's didn't resemble any of the many languages he knew which only raised even more unease in the pit of the mischief maker's stomach. Being unfamiliar to things in a captive situation ripped him right out of his comfort zone and left him in dangerous territory.

Of course the God made an attempt to memorise the pattern of what the guard entered for something to cling onto, to have even an almost insignificant speck of knowledge of this realm that may or may not aid him in the future if the right opportunity arose. To Loki's dismay though the guard's finger flew from one virtual key to another with such pace that his eyes found it impossible to keep track and the chance was missed as it finished the sequence causing the door to slide open, ready to swallow it's new prisoner.

They carelessly shoved him into the room discarding the man without so much as muttering a single syllable. Loki fell to the ground, chains not giving him enough leniency to help recover from a shove of that strength.

He looked up towards them from where he sat on the ground expectantly awaiting one of them to walk in and release him of his chains - none of the figures even hinted at stepping into the room, and in a matter of short seconds the heavy door slid shut completely diminishing any contact between them.

Muzzled and chained, a dishevelled Loki rose to his feet inspecting his hands after landing on the floor: they harboured a new brown substance, mysterious black flecks sticking to his palm presumably from the ground. He inspected flooring, grimacing at the sight of the layer on filth it possessed, the white surface beneath glum and non-maintained.

Loki hastily scrubbed his palms against his trousers in an attempt to cleanse himself of the floors unknown grime. This was definitely not the ideal place to be stuck in for a clean freak such as Loki: Odin knows what sort of fluids and germs were smeared on the floors of this rather bright prison cell.

Once Loki stopped prioritising the disgusting chocolate-coloured substance on his hands he gave himself a chance to survey the room itself - There was a white wall only a few short feet from the entrance, and when looked both left and right it was evident that the room was a hallway that gradually curved as though it were creating a circular shape.

What caught the God's proper attention however were the few bodies laying lifelessly on the ground, most leaning back against the walls slumped as the life force they previously possessed had gone, with the exception of one corpse sprawled in the middle of the ground to the right of Loki as though it couldn't muster the strength to drag itself to the side to sit against the wall and wait for whatever had befallen then to take them to their end.

Though they didn't look particularly old the smell they gave was rancid; the scent of deceased bodies was something unique to itself and difficult to describe unless one experienced the stench themselves. Not something Loki was unused to of course, he had spent plenty of time on the battle field where some battles were so gruesome corpses created a carpet on the ground and forced all soldiers to walk upon their deceased brethren.

That wasn't the same as being effectively locked in a room with several of them, but he didn't have any choice in the matter.

He got to both feet deeming the first order of his capture to investigating what resided along the two curves of this odd chamber. Loki glanced both ways, swiftly coming to the conclusion that the two options looked the same if not significantly similar so in the end result it was unlikely to make a difference which direction he chose.

The sorcerer opted for the left side preferring the route that didn't currently possess a random dead body. Movement still restricted somewhat from the chains the man began walking, precariously eyeing the bodies lounging against the sides every few feet nervous one would spring up and attack at any moment. Loki wasn't entirely sure on why that would occur but being prepared for even the unlikeliest of situations was his speciality.

Fortunately they did appear thoroughly deceased as none of them even hinted at making a move - not so much as a twitch to Loki's overly calculating eyes - which was excellent news given that in case of him being attacked without notice, in his current bondage predicament there wouldn't be an array of options for him to protect himself without the ability to move very much, a weapon, or even an inkling of Seidr at his disposal.

After perhaps only half a minute of limited steps Loki came across a door which replicated the one he'd just wandered away from. No other turn points or small rooms were evident, merely one continuously curved corridor. _A circle then_ , he concludes.

Seeing nothing particularly useful or interesting here Loki carried on walking, now only half paying attention to the bodies on the ground. They were all very similarly placed in a way that struck him almost like a mini déjà vu but Loki brushed it off. After all he was currently prisoner on an unknown planet traded off to some unknown fate; it only made sense he'd try to piece together non-existing patterns to try and ease his nerves in the slightest.

Soon another door came into the God's vision, before something blocked the path of Loki's shallow steps and caused him to fall forward almost smashing his face on the ground. Confusion plagued him as he twisted his body to gaze at what lead him to trip over, only to come face to face with a body sprawled out in the middle of the ground.

It looked oddly similar to the one he'd been looking at not to long ago. Moving his attention to the very familiar position of the bodies ahead of him only confirmed the strange reality of the situation: This holding cell wasn't a full circle as far as Loki could interpret, it was some sort of _magic_ circle. Only half of it really existed somehow.

Obviously location manipulation wasn't a foreign concept to him. There were of course many types of magics, quite a few more than most people cared to acknowledge which irked Loki a fair amount. Though having his talent undermined wasn't foreign to him. Even though it was Frigga herself who trained him (mostly) in the arcane arts, it was Odin and Thor who made a habit of undermining the skill set completely.

More often than not it was Thor who would obnoxiously speak out against it as if the fact that he wielded a tangible weapon as opposed to a well of Seidr made him superior, indifferent about those around him being hurt by his sugar-coated insults. He allowed himself to recall the instance at the feast they held after a successful campaign many years back, after all what did he have other than an abundance of time to sink into his own thoughts and memories in this desolate chamber...

 _"All magic is simply the same, you just give it fancy titles to make it sound better."_ , _Thor exclaimed as the Prince was in a discussion with an Ambassador of Vanaheim about the contrast between sorcerers and warriors. Loki remembers the look on her face as she heard his veiled mockery - polite laughter escaped her lips but the trickster was no fool, he could read the offence written beneath her courteous response. Asgard was of course the pinnacle of all the nine realms, very few would be so foolish as the upset the future king over a passing comment made in poor taste._

_Vanaheim being a culture well known for their dominance in terms of sorcery - none of the nine realms compared with their knowledge and capability in many if not all forms of magick, which Loki had always been envious of. Learning the arcane arts as opposed to weaponry combat was the norm on their realm and somewhat a more respectable path to take. So it clearly didn't bode well for his idiotic sibling to outwardly slander Vanaheim's ancient superior mastery in magick._

_Loki however wasn't so inclined. "Is a dagger the same as a sword?" He retorted with a slight head tilt directed at none other than the ignorant God of Thunder. Thor sent Loki his classic sharp 'Shut the fuck up' glance; it wasn't news that the son of Odin despised being challenged in front of guests more than most things in the universe. Ever the touchy thing._

_As if Thor could even begin to comprehend the scientific depth and nature of any form of magick. The roots of sorcery were much more advanced than understanding the essence of a forged weapon: metals, handle formation, sharpness, weight. It was an otherworldly contrast to grasping the how's, why's and what's of spellworking._

_Thor, having no tolerance to be told he was wrong in public appearance countered bitterly, "No, but a knife is still a knife whether you use it to butter your bread in the morning or stab your enemies with, is it not?"_

_He was somewhat correct, but comparing the vast range of magicks to being one singular force was a fledgling mistake. With Loki's broad education in the complex scientific understanding of Seidr formations; it was preposterous to think that one would try to use the same energy to cast an illusion to try and conjure fire magick. They were two utterly different things._

_Loki furrowed his brows, "Well yes, but-"_

_"Bring out the next course!" Thor roared completely severing Loki's sentence followed by his deep conceited chuckle. The array of young beautiful women along with his friends and other nobles of neighbour realms cheered, then also fell into a pleasant warm laughter. Nobody seemed to pay Loki or what he had been about to say any mind at all._

He hated that day.

They had both been blossoming into young adulthood then, moving on from the whirlwind of their juvenile years into the next stage of physical maturity. Of course maturing mentally was more often a personal choice and Thor was adamant to remain in his egotistical ways back then. Vanity was common on Asgard, but his brother found ways to constantly take it to new infuriating levels.

The sorcerer wasn't prepared to fib and claim that Thor was the same as he was that amount of time ago - his unintended trip to Midgard had visibly improved his perception on other people's emotions, taught the boy some much needed humility and respect.

Ah yes, a prime example of Odin's excellent parenting: Tossing Thor on Earth without the assistance of his hammer or Godly strength, as a way of repairing the Allfather's failed attempts at being a good example to his son. Odin merely watched as Thor grew into a being of pure chaos, who hungered for destruction and glory more than the reputation of being a peaceful and magnanimous ruler.

Even with just one eye the Allfather wasn't truly naive to his son's clear actual nature and only when he began slaughtering Frost Giants did he decide to simply toss him to the side with hopes he'd fix the corruption within that Odin didn't bother to kill years ago. Perhaps he'd hoped that Thor would just grow out of his lust for mayhem at every turn, and simply elected to ignore the issue brewing within the Thunderer because if you leave something for long enough it's bound to go away.

After all that was precisely what he had done with his _true_ first born, Hela. He hadn't received the full story but the God was rather apt at inference and it sounded as though Odin discarded her once the full force of her disastrous intentions became too prominent.

The mighty king of Asgard, protector of the nine realms and holder of peace reduced to a poor excuse of a father.

Loki sighed and moved to massage the bridge of his nose. It didn't do well to think ill of the dead he supposed, relocating both hands in his lap whilst gazing around at the numerous dead bodies. All of them bore gruesome battle wounds it appeared as though they'd been in some form of combat. He didn't spot any gun wounds however, which were more or less the only weapon he'd seen the guards carrying earlier.

That implied that they didn't die of resistance or other cause to the interestingly dressed escorts and came face to face with something wielding a melee weapon. None of what the God was seeing helped understand why he was here and the fate he'd been sold to Loki's eyelids drooped wearily. He didn't have the energy to nit-pick t every tiny detail right now, he just wanted the sweet release of sleep to consume him. Too much had happened in the last few hours and it would be glorious to just fall unconscious temporarily.

If anything threatening occurred Loki would certainly be woken anyway, so why delay a bit of peace while he had the chance?

Allowing himself to bask in the tranquillity of shutting down his overactive mind for a while the trickster slowly allowed both eyelids to fully obstruct his vision, and sure enough blissful rest followed soon after.

 

_ _ _ _ _

 

Only partially to the God's expectations, the wake up call was unpleasant.

A wakening by noise or even naturally would have been preferred - instead Loki was carelessly ripped back to consciousness by being hauled up onto his feet, which resulted in looking rather clumsy as at first his limbs were still somewhat numb from only being awake for such a short period of time. His entire body tensed and even with limited awareness of what was happening tried fruitlessly to struggle out of the hands grasps.

Once Loki's brain and vision came to full attention he renewed his efforts too try and tug away from the guards holding him, they were dressed the same as the guards he'd been lead by earlier, however their hold never faltered even slightly.

He could only be dragged along helplessly as several guards removed him from the chamber, although instead of turning left which was where they'd originally come from they swerved right and lead Loki down the opposite direction to which he had arrived. There was nothing he could do to stop or even delay what was in store for him.

The journey was surprisingly barren or other fol considering the crowd he'd seen earlier when being sold off; he made a note of that. A few minutes of heavy footsteps and chain-rattling later they arrived at a large, deep grey metal door. Only moments were required for one of the guards to input a code once again and the door split into 4, each segment retracting into each corner of where the door stood now leaving an open passageway.

From where he stood, Loki viewed what appeared to be some sort of armoury - long shelves of weapons, tools, shields and the sort. It was essentially a warrior's haven. The chains that restricted his movement were removed as well as the muzzle before two sets of hands shoved him forwards and sent the God tumbling without grace for several seconds before coming to an unsteady halt, turning to watch the door shut leaving him once again without direct supervision.

He redirected his sights to the array of dangerous objects and quickly realised that he wouldn't be alone; multiple others were present in the room too, and they almost glared at the man who'd come stumbling in, eyeing him as if a piece of prey. Loki's stomach twisted uncomfortably when he watched one of the strange beings, who somewhat vaguely reminded him of the Chitari by it's appearance, lick their lips whilst practically gawking at the Trickster.

Loki cringed at the sight.

Without so much as an inkling of a hint at why he would need to equip himself with weaponry Loki gazed around, semi-clueless. There were countless reasons why one might be enforced to arm themselves so being surrounded by rows upon rows of objects one might consider when going to war, with the exclusion of guns and similar mechanic firearms, so his eyes gave away nothing of what was specifically expected of him.

But the chance of battle was apparently certain, Loki was perceptible to that much. Approaching and asking one of his near 'companions' was out of the question for now. The new game the God had to play was guessing what he had to prepare for and making sure whatever came next wasn't his immediate death.

Fighting, the Jotun could do easily. However if whatever was suppressing his Seidr wasn't removed or unlocked before whatever conflict was the come, then he was at a disadvantage if he were to come into contact with warriors who had mastered the physical arts much more then he had. Of course in the fairly recent past Loki had clashed with Thor a couple of times, and in fact held his own for a decent duration, but it was becoming more and more evident that there were things that existed beyond Thor's capabilities and danger level: and so that left Loki dwindling vulnerably low in the food-chain.

But also everyone had their advantages and Loki's was definitely his sheer speed of attack - the ability to open an opponent's throat when they'd barely so much as gotten to raise their weapon. Accompanied by his adept talent at being able to register an attacking blow and dodging it in record time keeping him in the running to be victor.

It was only a few short seconds of standing still, confused, before Loki began roaming the isles eyes scanning the racks for daggers. He was forced to pass a few beings, some gave him looks that made Loki move on with haste, while others payed him no mind busy inspecting heavy clubs of war hammers in their grasps. Strolling around Loki couldn't help but conjure the thought of how this would be absolute paradise for someone like Sif. She'd be practically drooling over the mass of options as her full hot-headed disposal. A force to be reckoned with for certain.

Loki had to give the creators of these inventions credit where it was due, many of the weapons he saw were extremely formidable and were likely capable of ending a battle in a single blow. Other vicious sharp things caught his eye as he passed too: a wide variety of swords, hammers and clubs, some that even stood taller than him. By any hope Loki wasn't destined to face something capable of wielding such a massive tool of utter destruction.

Finally he found what he was looking for. A good selection of daggers, knives, throwing blades, short swords and similar smaller bladed objects. This was definitely more Loki's style. None of that ego fuelling brute strength malarky - His talents rested with weapons that were sometimes undermined but held a bitter potency of danger no thick headed barbarian would expect. A false sense of under-determination is Loki's territory on the battlefield, and it's served him well thus far.

Irrelevant to the situation, but with his personal intimate experiences with men he often found that those who wielded bigger weapons were trying to _compensate for something._

Pale fingers hovered over a line of appealing daggers, hand gliding from side to side before he eventually reached down and took one into his palm bringing the other hand up to inspect it. A brown leather handle that felt pleasant to grip, a serrated silver metal several inches long that didn't bare any sort of reflection whatsoever but Loki could tell it's surprising sharpness by lightly pressing the pad of his thumb against the blade itself. It looked rather promising.

"I wouldn't suggest that one, the handle's dodgy." A voice interrupted.

Loki whipped his head to the left to see the source of the mysterious interaction, eyes coming to rest on a man who so far was one of the very few beings on this realm that looked like a regular person. A complexion that made him appear as though the stranger could be from Asgard itself. They had flawless pale skin, similar to the God's, and short brown hair that stood upwards neatly accompanied by hazel eyes. Even a few chocolate freckled dotted on his cheeks to finish the look.

The Trickster just looked at the man in silent suspicion. He smiled softly at Loki as though trying to come across as a friendly adviser here to help the poor stranded prisoner, but in his experience it was always best to assume guilty from the starting line to avoid trouble. 

Prompted by Loki's silence the man elaborated, "Really fine edges on both sides and the metal is durable but the handle's kinda loose, I put a word in but they barely ever bother to properly maintain these things. Quite inconvenient when you're in the middle of a death match," A moment later he raised his hand in an invitation for Loki to shake, "I'm Horick. And you?"

A few moments of silence and stillness followed of Loki assessing the risk of this simple gesture; either it was as genuine and harmless as introducing each other, or the informative stranger meant to cut his hand from the wrist for whatever cause. Both had been attempted on him in the past. However with that in mind he felt prepared for if he did decide to try anything malicious and decided to engage with the man.

The Jotun brought up his hand to clasp the others, shaking it, "Loki. So this isn't your first time here I take it?" He inquired hopeful to pry some answers from the forward young man who appeared only content to oblige.

"That's one way of putting it. I've come into this room more times than I can count, which is a curse and a blessing in it's own way," Horick explained as he took a set of vicious looking throwing stars into his hands, "You're definitely new though."

Loki kept his eyes on Horick's despite the other being more focused on what he was currently holding, "And how do you figure that?" A simple question perhaps, but Loki was intrigued to just how his observation skills were.

Horick chuckled, his eyes meeting Loki's again, "I know everyone in the warm-ups. Even the one's who only last a single day, since they bring us all in at the same time. Even if I don't talk to the newcomers it's not complicated to figure out why they don't show up here the next day," He tested the edges of the small blades with the ends of his fingers carefully, "I've never seen you before. Also the look in your eyes when you fist came in - this is all new to you. But you knew what you were looking for, what you wanted, which is a good start. Real goners have no idea where to even begin but you did, so you have a better chance of making it through your first fight."

 _So a fairly basic level of perception then_ , Loki concluded.

Another curiosity that plagued him was that if everyone in this room were part of the same group, then he wasn't sure why he'd been alone in his previous holding cell seeing at how many others were apparently in his exact position. Not that the God was complaining, he was probably much better off without being trapped in a cell with anything other than Horick, and even that much was uncertain.

If anything the lad seemed less of a potential enemy and simply just open to getting to know unfamiliar faces. Depending on just how much this new acquaintance was willing to share with him, Loki wasn't particularly objective to the new company.

He placed the dagger back down into it's original position, "It's fair to assume you've been here for quite a while then?" Loki asked.

"Oh absolutely, no idea how long exactly though. I'd recommend these," Horick suggested holding a pair of daggers up for Loki to take, "They're a bit heavier than the usual but the weight disappears when the adrenaline starts taking over and you're in the proper heat of the fight." Loki took them into his hands. They were a decent bit heavier than what he was used to but not enough to cause any serious concerns, and they did look quite favourable.

Not the mention the unhelpful but visually pleasing aesthetic of them: both made of a fine golden metal that had been worn over time and no longer wore any sort of shine, now a more rough appearance but it was bladed on both sides and the sharpness Loki detected meant they weren't too worn to be a burden when trying to cut open an opponent. His hand fit nicely onto the handle crafted of black leather that spiralled beneath his palm designed with care and thought. Two very exceptional weapons indeed.

Remaining safely dubious towards the other Loki pressed on his distrust, "Wouldn't you like them yourself?" It gave him wonder as to why Horick wouldn't want to claim these rather desirable weapons himself, instead offering them up to a stranger as opposed to using them for his personal benefit. The Jotun found it significantly hard to believe anyone on this realm was at all selfless going by how he'd been treated up until now. Although he had that impression about most realms, so that wasn't foreign impression for Loki.

The brunette just smiled, "Not today at least. I overheard who I'm up against tonight, picking myself up something with some good range, something to keep me a good gap between myself and who I'm against but still dangerous. Those are hand-held's, I've tried using them from a distance and it just doesn't really work that well." He responded eyeing over the selection in front of him before gathering a set of the throwing stars he'd been fiddling with moments ago, holding them in various parts of his garments - boots, beneath the top of his leggings, behind his neck, wedging the small round razor blades between his clothing and himself holding onto them for convenient use.

On top of that Horick also grabbed two small knives slotting them both beneath his leggings at his hips up to the dark handle as if to finish off stocking up for whatever was about to happen. A set of voices from some far side of the room began yelling and Horick turned to look in the direction of where it was coming from, then turning back to the God with that same strangely confident and friendly smile, "They'll start calling us taking us out soon so just make sure you've got everything you need."

"What exactly it is we're doing?" Loki asked with haste, unsure of how much time he had left to be able to get any answers from anyone.

"I figured you weren't from around here. Me neither," The man said, "We're basically the ones who get the crowd going. The smaller fighters to get the audiences excited and all, before the bigger ones come out and then every so often the Champion comes out to basically annihilate whatever poor asshole has to pretend to have any sort of chance against him. He's not coming out this time though."

Loki didn't like what he was hearing. Horick expanded further, "You can, well, move up I guess you could say, to be in the bigger fights if some higher ups or decision-making-folk think you're capable of taking on more numbers or bigger fighters and stuff. It's a whole system, you'll get the hang of it. Just don't die basically is the jist of it."

The word 'basically' seemed to be a theme with this man, and the prince wasn't certain he agreed with how simple Horick made the situation sound. No part of potentially fighting to the death sounded like a walk in the park no matter how many 'basically's' this man interjected into a sentence.

"We don't really have any more time to talk properly since the time between fights varies but they try to pump us out as fast as possible since we're the less thrilling competitors. Hey, you seem nice though. If you don't die we could definitely talk some more yeah?" Horick looked a lot more optimistic than Loki felt. He nodded in consent however moving to slot his daggers at both hips in preparation.

The area became more active as a lot of the others in the room began conversing, some moving around as if the voices that had been calling out earlier had suddenly made the other combatants perk up with the knowledge they'd get the chance to bash something's head in soon enough. Horick didn't seem to be affected by it though and Loki was more than content to stay where he was as well.

They were passed by others a few times but weren't paid any attention to which suited the prince just fine. Looking around it seemed him and Horick were the only ones who favoured smaller weapons; everyone else was equipped with anything at least five times the size of one of Loki's daggers but he didn't bother much with nerves. They would be plenty of time for that once he was actually faced with someone he had to defeat wherever this fighting business was taking place.

It was only when Loki looked back to where Horick had been standing that he felt his first wave of apprehension - he was no longer there, or anywhere in the God's sights even when peering rapidly around the room once again. And yet again Loki was left alone, accompanied only by the anxiety he suppressed and the mountain of questions he now had.

More yelling began and the trickster noticed that when he paid attention they were trying to retrieve somebody present in the room, "The green 'n gold one, Skinny guy over there! Hurry up!" 

Without having to be told Loki knew they meant him.

He peered over to where a group of guards, yet again dressed in the same strange apparel as the others, who stood by an even even large one than the door he'd entered through, caught sight of him and began marching over to where he stood.

Of course the prince wasn't about to willingly let himself get dragged off to some sort of slaughter show, and so he twisted around to face the opposite direction hoping to make some distance between them. It didn't go to plan as only a short moment after he collided with the Chitari-looking specimen who'd been drooling at Loki's enterance earlier.

An expression of cringing mixed with a scathing glare formed on Loki's face but the horrid thing only grinned back at him. Despite his original goal to completely avoid the guards he felt gratitude wash over him when they dragged the man away distancing him from the unsettling creature, who by any mercy from the high Gods he'd never have to be that close to again.

The guards paced towards the humongous metallic door swiftly as if impatient to get him to whatever was on the other side. Loki didn't bother wasting his energy on a losing battle and simply allowed himself to be taken until he was right in front of the exit to whatever he was was come face to face with.

"This one 'n then get that quick one from C8 out, he's got that screech-y dog thing. After that prob'ly the one with the two swords," The door began to open gradually, it split from the centre with half of it travelling upwards and the other sinking into the floor, "'aight, get him out." The gruff voice ordered when it finally opened to reveal a gigantic arena.

Thousands upon thousands of people in the audience, all making and uproar while witnessing the first taste of violence for the evening. The sounds only got louder as he walked out into the immense circular stadium that so many had come to attend for the sight within. All of those onlookers present to watch individuals fight to their bloody ends presumably, all cheering and hollering in sheer joy at the gruesome event in front of them.

 _I have to get off this planet,_ was the last thing that ran through Loki's thought process before a monstrous roar made the God cease his movements into the open area. He whirled around, eyes forming perfect wide circles as into his vision came a scene which was arguably the worst thing he could have possibly been introduced to when stuck in an arena where he was to fight to the death.

Loki recognised the beast immediately as that the one he'd encountered in the line to be traded away - the tall, tremendously bulky monster who wore skin nearly as dark as a starless night sky with yellow eyes that glowed with an insane wild rage.

Just in front of the monstrosity lay another creature, who's entire body had been ripped apart with no inch left intact; just a shallow pile of red and pink fleshy bits, all sat in a pool of blood that stained the ground several feet wide. A large amount of blood however ended up on the monster somehow as the savage creature gleamed with a dark maroon tint as though he had bathed in his opponents life force. For whatever reason it's hand held tight onto thick pieced of his opponents remains, clinging onto them possessively whilst never breaking eye contact with a no less than startled Loki.

Under the wicked glowing orbs of it's eyes, in it's mouth hung a chunk of meat and Loki felt his heart sink when the thing began to _chew._

The last thing he ever wanted to do was go anywhere near the thing that stared madly at the prince but he unsheathed his daggers regardless taking note of how the creature possessed no weapon of it's own, or armour even. If he had the option, Loki would rather be confronted with the creepy Chitari-looking being than this monstrosity in a heartbeat.

It began to approach, taking long strides crossing the empty space between the two much faster than the man was comfortable with. One second it was a few dozen metres away, the next only several, until they were close enough for one of them to land the first strike.

Still half dazed, Loki didn't move quick enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter winded up being 3 times longer than the first one which is good I suppose? The more the merrier?
> 
> Next chapter will feature lots of juicy action because fight scenes are fun but I'll leave you all in anticipation until then c:

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the first taste of my fanfiction! This was sort of an introduction and I'm eager to get into more exciting things in the next chapter! I have a lot planned so stay tuned ~


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